BLOG 345–Do You Read or Just Look at Words?

✨ KITTING AROUND ✨
BLOG 345–Do You Read or Just Look at Words?
A masterpiece each time? I try to.
Explore new corners, dive into your imagination.
Crank up the music and turn your living room into a dance floor.
Grab some oranges and juggle them right there in the grocery aisle.
Laugh so hard the walls shake and the neighbors start making up theories.
Life isn’t a zombie shuffle to bedtime—It’s a carnival waiting for you to join the parade!

I write, create, and share so that we can pause together, look at LIFE differently, and grow taller on the inside. My mission? To demonstrate that living differently and living better is not only possible—it’s essential.
     
My Story in a Nutshell (with Extra Sprinkles) :
‍♂️ Once upon a time, I was a world-class juggler. Spoiler: I still juggle—mostly joy.
Life tested me with curveballs: A 37-day coma, two truck accidents, and somehow I’m still smiling.
I spent six years living in a van, chasing sunsets and collecting memories in every U.S. national park.
Love found me, lost me, and then surprised me with a wedding on 2/22/22 at 2:22.
I’ve crisscrossed the globe, helping people rise higher than they thought possible (YOU!)
❤️ And here I am, still learning, still loving, still lighting sparks.
Because the story is never over—it just gets juicier.
Want a glimpse? Watch this >> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8QFnD1yGc 

This is the Stuff that Turns “Just Surviving” into Thriving.

The past?
The past is a wise old guide. Take its lessons, tip your hat, and keep walking forward.
History is there to help you; learn from what has occurred in your Life.
Because the road ahead is waiting, sparkling with possibility.
Smile, tip your hat, pocket the wisdom, and keep striding toward the horizon.
It’s a wise old storyteller, full of campfire tales and lessons whispered on the wind.
   
The future?
That’s a playful trickster.
It’s always sneaking up with surprises.
Don’t fear it — dance with it — it is playtime.
Shape it — Claim it — make it yours.
It arrives whether you’re ready or not … so why not be dazzling when it does?
   
And the present?
Ah, this is your playground!
Throw glitter in the air.
Laugh so hard the moon takes notes.
Turn the ordinary into a disco ball and let it shine.
Make the ordinary sparkle like it’s wearing sequins.

“Here’s to chasing brilliance with reckless joy.
Blazing a trail that shimmers with possibility.
Sprinkling a little mischief along the way!”
—Kit Summers, your cosmic cheerleader

WHY I WRITE THIS BLOG?
✨ Life is a dazzling, untamed kaleidoscope—too vibrant, too quirky, too electric to keep to myself! Each post is a burst of ideas, stories, and hard-won wisdom, sparkling like confetti from epic adventures, glorious fumbles, and that stubborn spark that just won’t quit.
   
PROOF!
✨Every change I walk through is proof: I can adapt, I can rise, I can keep shaping life into something brighter. These shifts aren’t setbacks—they’re upgrades, invitations to keep growing, to keep building a body and spirit that can carry me farther. You can do the same! 

I’VE MET CHANGE TOO MANY TIMES.
CHANGE DOESN’T SCARE ME ANYMORE.
EVERY SINGLE TIME, I COME OUT STRONGER!
MAKE ANY CHANGES YOU CAN TO MAKE YOUR LIFE BETTER!

      
THE BEAM
Change boldly. Aim for magnificence.
Fear? That’s dead weight.
Courage is the fuel for living.
You don’t get a rerun of this life—so advance, evolve, reinvent.
I’m not some drill sergeant barking at you—I’m the flashlight buddy.
   
THE MAP?
Forget the stiff, folded kind.
Your’s is a wild canvas.
You weren’t built for beige.
You were wired for fizz.
For fireworks.
==================================
THINGS THAT HAPPENED THIS WEEK >> 

What a joy to write these words for you—each line anchors me and lights the path ahead. This practice doesn’t just fill my time; it fuels my spirit. And if these words can lift even one corner of your day, then every moment spent is priceless. I hope that what I share inspires, encourages, and reminds you of the strength you already possess. 
       
Usually, Saturday afternoons are my stage under the open sky. That little park across the street becomes my circus, my cathedral of motion. The grass waits patiently, the air hums with possibility—then thwack, a ball arcs, a rhythm begins. But lately? Florida’s been showing off its moody side. It rains about every day.
 
Talk about the weather, this is the kind of rain that starts with a whisper and ends with thunder’s applause. Not ideal for juggling. My props don’t like puddles. Still, I stand by the window, watching droplets dance, feeling that itch in my hands. Rain or shine, a juggler’s spirit doesn’t sit still—it spins. Maybe the next break in the clouds will be mine.
     
Mark Richards is still hard at work bringing my story to the world—turning my books into a movie that will light a spark in hearts everywhere.
If you’ve got ideas for Mark or would like to help make this dream reel a reality, he’d love to hear from you! You can reach him at mark.richards@booksidepress.com or call (657) 214-7675.

We’re also looking for investors who want to be part of something truly inspiring—a story about resilience, wonder, and the wild joy of coming back stronger.
   
And my teeth—oh boy. I still catch myself wondering what on earth possessed me to have all my lower ones yanked out. My sister didn’t mince words either—told me flat out, “You should’ve never done that.” Now every time I see one of those slick ads for “custom smile covers,” I can’t help but laugh (and wince).
 
Turns out I could’ve kept my teeth! But hey, no use crying over missing molars. What’s gone is gone. So I’ll live with it—and keep smiling wide enough to make up for the teeth that aren’t there.

BLOG 345–Do You Read or Just Look at Words
⚡Reading vs. Scanning — A Wake-Up Moment
There’s Kit—book in hand, eyes tracing words—then snap.
That spark of awareness strikes: “Am I really reading… or just looking at words?”
That single question flips the switch. The page stops being ink—it becomes oxygen.

Only a few books pull you clean through the paper,
Dissolve the walls, and rebuild yourself somewhere new.
“The Way of the Peaceful Warrior”, by Dan Millman, did that for me.
It wasn’t just a story—it was a compass pointing toward a fuller and better life.
Every reread hits me like quiet lightning: truth whispered in simple words—Wake up. Live deliberately!
   
Quotes from “The Way of the Peceful Warrior.”
“Release your struggle, let go of your mind, and throw away your concerns. Relax into the world. There’s no need to resist life; just do your best. Open your eyes and see that you are far more than you imagine. You are the world, you are the universe; you are yourself and everyone else, too!”
AND
“Peace comes when you stop trying to control the world around you and instead take responsibility for the world within you. The warrior has peace of mind because they know that there is always a way to find light, even in the midst of the greatest darkness.”

If you haven’t read it, treat yourself to this book.
You can find used copies for a low price.
(yes, all the words are still included!)
AbeBooks.com.
Find other books there, too.
     
Reading is beneficial because it enhances cognitive functions — memory, focus, and analytical thinking — and provides significant mental and physical health benefits. These can include stress reduction, improved sleep, and increased empathy and knowledge. It functions as a “workout” for the brain, keeping it active and healthy and potentially extending life.

Who would ever think Kit would write a book? (I’ve written 15 books to this point.) In addition to writing books, I have been writing regularly, maintaining this blog every Friday for over twenty years.
   
You have a lot to do before your eventual death.
Could one of those things be writing a book?     
A book to help others?
I say YES!
   
KIT THE BOOK WRITER/PUBLISHER
From Handwritten Dreams to Worldwide Hands

Let me take you back to where it all began—my first book, “Juggling with Finesse”. No fancy publisher, no big marketing machine—just raw passion, persistence, and a typewriter’s hum. What started as scribbles in my notebook became a self-published hit, selling over 25,000 copies worldwide, at about twenty bucks a pop.
     
Once, I lived in perfect rhythm—three clubs spinning through the air, five balls tracing invisible music. I’d climbed to the very top of my craft, a professional juggler dancing with gravity itself. Then came the fall—the crash. A 37-day period of silence is not typically considered a coma.

MOST PEOPLE THOUGHT THE SHOW WAS OVER. BUT I WASN’T DONE. 

When I wrote Juggling with Finesse, it wasn’t just a book—it was proof. Proof that even though my brain had taken a brutal hit, the knowledge, the timing, the pulse of juggling still lived inside me. Words became my new juggling act—each sentence a catch, each page a daring throw into possibility.
   
I learned to:
Write until the air around your words hum.
Write like you’re swinging an axe through fog.
Write like someone’s world might tilt because of your following line.

At the rehab center where I received therapy in 1982, they had a “word processor” (the precursor to the computer). I sat there and poured out every word, every technique, every spark of my juggling soul. Friends pitched in, editing line by line, and together we built something real.

I remembered from high school how to lay out a page with a T-square and a 90° angle. Old-school craftsmanship. I designed every single page by hand—marked where every photo, every drawing, every juggling trick would go. Then came the cover: my smiling face, because why hide behind your own work?

When the first shipment arrived—
All 3,000 of them.
A 275-page dream made real.
Packed full of photos and drawings.
This book made a difference.
My big book, 8.5″ x 11″, was alive.
Crisp. Gleaming. Massive.

I cracked open the box, as if it might hum.
And there it was—my vision—Juggling with Finesse.
No longer a whisper or a maybe,
but a mountain of pages breathing ink and promise.

The paper’s scent rose like nostalgia and adrenaline combined.
The weight in my hands was no longer just a book—
It was a pulse, a portal, a physical echo of belief.
Imagination had crossed the veil.
And I was holding the proof.

But books don’t sell themselves. So, I hustled. I mailed copies to reviewers and magazines, aiming for the stars. One day, Booklist—Yes, the national library review publication—featured it. Suddenly, libraries across America were ordering Juggling with Finesse. That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t just juggling words—I was juggling destiny.

“This thoroughly illustrated guide to the art of
Juggling is certainly well done…” — Booklist.

And I didn’t stop there. Fourteen more books followed: comedy for jugglers, performing tips, advanced tricks, and others—each one a love letter to the art form that shaped my life. I printed them myself, drilled holes in the pages, slid them into binder books, and sent them out into the world. DIY magic.

Now, I’m channeling that same unstoppable spirit into a new series: “Beyond Your Potential.” The first two of five books are done—each one a blueprint for living better, bolder, and more awake. I want this series to soar like Finesse did—only higher.

Because whether it’s juggling,
writing, or life itself…
The trick is the same:
Keep everything in motion.
     
READING REWIRES YOUR WHOLE BEING
✨ Mind • Body • Beyond ✨

MENTAL STRENGTH
Reading isn’t running away—it’s coming home.
Each line steadies the pulse, untangles the mind, and lets in fresh air.
Reduces stress: A good book is a long exhale after a noisy day.
Lifts your mood: Stories whisper, “hope still lives here.”
Expands empathy: You step into another Life—and your heart grows roomier.
Ignites creativity: Words collide, sparks fly, and suddenly—you’re inventing new worlds.
Deepens understanding: Every book adds another wing to your inner mansion.

PHYSICAL BENEFITS
When the mind softens, the body follows.
Every page you turn tells your nervous system, “you’re safe now.”
Lowers blood pressure: Stillness runs deeper than silence.
Improves sleep: Paper coaxes you to drift; screens demand your eyes.
Protects your brain: Reading keeps the gears greased—your lifelong armor against rust.

LIFELONG GROWTH
Curious people never truly age—they just grow wilder roots.
Sharpens focus: Attention is a muscle—books are its gym.
Strengthens language: The more words you hold, the more clearly you can shape reality.
Feed learning: Curiosity doesn’t fade—it multiplies.
Builds confidence: Finishing a book is proof—you can finish anything.

THE TAKEAWAY
Reading is not escape—it’s transformation.
Each page rearranges your chemistry.
Each story rewires your outlook.
Each sentence teaches your breath to trust again.
Each book you read will change you.

READ!
So when your eyes meet the words—
Let them touch you back.
Pause. Breathe them in.
Let the story tilt your world a few degrees toward wonder.
Because every book is a quiet revolution,
and you are the one turning the pages.

 SO—HOW CAN YOU FLIP TODAY FROM ORDINARY TO EXTRAORDINARY?

=====WORDS AND QUOTES THAT SPARK====

Quotes aren’t just words on a page—they’re tiny lightning bolts, buzzing with wisdom and ready to jolt you awake. One line can flip your mood, widen your heart, or shove you off the couch and into a brand-new adventure.

A FEW SPARKS TO SLIP INTO YOUR POCKET >>

“If a book is well written, I always find it too short.” ―Jane Austen.
“Some books are so familiar that reading them is like being home again.” ―Louisa May Alcott.
“Books are the plane, and the train, and the road. They are the destination, and the journey. They are home.” ―Anna Quindlen
“Books are a uniquely portable magic.” ―Stephen King
“A book is a gift you can open again and again.” ―Garrison Keillor
To learn to read is to light a fire; every syllable that is spelled out is a spark.” ―Victor Hugo
“I declare, after all, there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of anything than of a book!—When I have a house of my own, I shall be miserable if I have not an excellent library.” ―Jane Austen
“Books are the mirrors of the soul.”―Virginia Woolf.
“I can survive well enough on my own—if given the proper reading material.” ―Sarah J. Maas.

STICK THESE QUOTES ON YOUR FRIDGE.
WHISPER THEM TO YOURSELF BEFORE BED.
PASS THEM ALONG TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS THEM.
REMEMBER, WORDS ARE VITAMINS FOR THE SOUL.

MY DAILY JOTTINGS!
Upgrade your thoughts—watch your world glow brighter!
✨ Life can shift in an instant—sometimes all it takes is one bold thought.
Go ahead, craft your noble book, your masterpiece—why not a best-seller?
You are dazzling, brilliant, unstoppable—so step into the spotlight and shine your part!
The universe is cheering for you—so dream big, play big, and LIVE big!
Remember, no matter where you are, you can spin things around quickly.
️ Then race toward your wildest, most colorful dreams!
Chase awe like it’s oxygen and spill joy like it’s confetti.
‍♂️Turn fear into a trampoline—you don’t dodge it, you bounce higher off it.
Step off the curb like it’s a stage. Rewrite the rules in neon.
⛓️ The world doesn’t need your half-versions, your safe edits.
☔ It requires your bold lines, your glittering messes, your full-throttle heart.
So—throw the ordinary a wink.
Playfulness isn’t frivolous; it’s rebellion.
Inspiration isn’t distant; it’s in your next breath.
   
10/4–Saturdays here are slow-motion days. No therapy sessions, barely a ripple of activity—just time stretching, daring me to fill it with something of my own making.
   
Across the hall, a man moans and groans endlessly. At first, it’s unsettling, but I’ve come to hear something human in it—an echo of struggle, a reminder that life, even damaged, still insists on being lived. This place can feel like an asylum, yes—but also like a strange sanctuary for persistence.
     
The meals? Surprisingly good. The kitchen crew knows my story—missing lower teeth and all—and makes sure I can still enjoy real food. Today’s lunch was comfort disguised as simplicity: crisp fried chicken, bright vegetables, and a baked potato that somehow tasted like optimism.
   
And now, Forrest Gump flickers to life—an old friend in motion. His voice rolls out, that famous drawl: “Life is like a box of chocolates…” I grin. Yep, Forrest, still right. Even here, even now, you never quite know what flavor’s next. I lean back, tasting the line like caramel on the tongue, realizing—my life’s been one wild, surprising sampler. Some bites are sweet, some a little bitter, all unforgettable.
   
10/5– Rain Again, But Not My Spirit. Rain drums on the roof like an impatient drummer, the lawn outside slick and shining. No juggling there today—the clubs would slip, the grass would bite. And across the hall, the man continues to moan and cry, a sound like ghosts wandering. Some mornings this place feels less like rehab and more like a halfway house for lost minds. But I’m still here, awake, choosing.
     
1 A.M. — Wide Awake
I woke at 1 a.m., eyes open like windows. The world was a sleeping giant; only I was awake, listening. Funny how silence at that hour roars louder than traffic. Nights like this don’t happen often anymore. But when they do, they whisper, “Write. Don’t waste time.”
   
Finding Fire in the Quiet
One bright truth about this brain rehab center is that it gives me time to reflect: time to sharpen my craft, time to write, and time to build this blog. Writing has become my current obsession, the engine that keeps me from drifting.
   
Passion as Your Future.
What’s your lifeline?
Your fire?
Your passion?
Everyone should have something that drags them out of the gray and into the vivid. For me, this blog is it. When I latch onto a passion, I don’t just dabble; I dive in. I go all in. I build, polish, and push until it glows.
     
❤️‍Starting with juggling.
I was able to build the skill into a passion.
Then recovery was my next drive.
Then book writing.
Next was salsa. (see https://www.summerssalsa.com/.)
And now this blog.
     
⚒️Your passions.
To discover your passions, follow the pulse of what makes you come alive.
Start with the small things—the moments that make you lose track of time, the subjects that light up your curiosity, the activities that pull you back again and again.
   
Once you find them, let them consume you in the best way.
Feed them. Chase them. Build your life around them.
Let that spark grow until it becomes a steady, blazing flame that warms every corner of your world.
     
Few people ever truly find what sets their soul on fire.
But you can. You must.
Because when passion takes the wheel,
life stops being something you manage—
And starts being something you dance with.
     
⚡ The Invitation
Just like life, this blog continues to evolve—more vibrant, more nuanced, more daring. I hope you’ll stay with me as it grows. Because this is more than words on a screen; it’s a living experiment in resilience, in art, in refusing to fade.
   
10/6 — A Monday in Motion
The place woke up buzzing before sunrise. By 9 a.m., I was out with the walking group, led by Maryann—half a mile of movement and mischief. I jogged, walked backward, and even turned the stroll into a mini cleanup mission, scooping bits of trash into the bag I’d brought. Motion with purpose—why just walk when you can improve the path?
 
At 9:30, I had my half-hour with Dino. No plan, no exercises, just talk. Maybe not a breakthrough session, but sometimes conversation itself is rehab—a reminder that connection still counts.
   
Then, at 10:00, Terrie took me to Publix for supplies for tomorrow’s grand experiment: Kit’s Lasagna Extravaganza (yes, that’s what I’m calling it). It’s all under OT (occupational therapy), technically—but to me, it’s about reclaiming ordinary life, one delicious layer at a time.
   
Meanwhile, others were tossing beanbags at holes on a board—a game they call “sports.” I’ll pass. There’s a line between play and passivity, and I try to stay on the living side of it. There are better ways for people to advance their minds and lives than throwing beanbags.
     
That spark you’re describing—education fused with passion and play—that’s where real healing and learning live. Systems tend to calcify; repetition becomes ritual instead of rhythm. But what are you picturing? That’s life pulsing back into the work.
     
A therapy lab of sorts:
Weekly Brainstorms: Practitioners exchanging experiments like recipes—one brings movement, another brings art, someone else music or storytelling.
Guest Instigators: Coaches or creatives who drop in just to unsettle the routine, to remind everyone what “possible” feels like.
Recovery as Exploration: Less “fixing” and more “discovering what else I can do with this body, this mind, this moment.”
       
You’re seeing the gap between structure and spark.

Maybe that’s your cue—to become the firestarter inside the system rather than waiting for one to arrive. What’s one experiment you’d introduce tomorrow if no one could say no?
   
Rehab doesn’t have to be babysitting. It can be a renaissance.
Innovation could turn therapy from repetition into revolution.
   
At 2:30, Maryann had me working on balance on the parallel bars. She noticed that I still tilt my head to the left when I stand. It’s a small thing—but every tilt corrected is a piece of my compass realigned. Step by step, layer by layer—like lasagna—this life rebuilds itself. My balance was horrendous; I was surprised.
           
10/7—Woke early again, the quiet hour when the world hasn’t decided what mood it’s in yet. I reached straight for the keyboard—well, write away—and dove into the blog. That rhythm of editing, reshaping, sharpening—it’s like polishing a mirror until the truth shines through. Good writing is just rewriting until the heart beats louder on the page.
 
This discovery — ChatGPT — has become my favorite co-conspirator in the creation process. It nudges, refines, challenges—and I love the spark it adds. Feels like finding a new color in my palette.
   
This morning, the halls are still, eerily so. 6:45 a.m. and not a sound. It’s strange, like I’m the last human in a paused world. Maybe that’s the secret gift of quiet—it makes your own pulse sound like music.
   
Later, the dentist. Lower denture fitting today is a temporary bridge to a more permanent solution. Bright white teeth? Tempting, but no—I want something that smiles like life, not porcelain. I’ll choose warmth over flash any day.
   
The walk is short — just a few blocks — but they still say I can’t go alone. I’ve trekked across continents on two strong legs, crossing deserts, cities, and oceans alone on my two feet. But here, a few blocks require permission. Freedom feels smaller these days, but my will hasn’t shrunk an inch. That will change. It must.
   
Then came a message from Julia. My heart lifted. We keep weaving our story across miles—her words, my pulse. I love this woman, deeply, fiercely, with that quiet certainty that doesn’t ask for proof.
     
Therapy today involves making lasagna with Terrie from OT. Fine—I’ll stir and simmer—but my hunger is for more: more movement, more sweat, more challenge. I want to rebuild not just muscles but momentum. Cooking lessons won’t do that.
     
So, who holds the key to more? And maybe—just maybe—it’s me.

10/8—By 8:32, I was already wide awake and buzzing, ready to make something happen. I’d been up since 4 a.m.—the world still dark, quiet, mine to think and plan in.
 
At 9:00 a.m., therapy was scheduled to begin. Keyword: supposed. We kicked off at 9:22 instead. Maura led us through word-guessing games—easy stuff for me. Then came Uno. A card game dressed up as therapy. Felt more like a coffee break with cards than brain training.
   
Later, a session with Lilly—now that woke me up. She asked me to recall what I did yesterday … and my mind went blank. Nothing. Gone. Reading my own notes to remember what I’d already written—now that hit hard. Memory, my old friend, had wandered off. It’s remarkable to realize how much of who we are is tied to what we can remember.
   
And yet—memory is being used to fence me in. They say it’s why I can’t go out alone. I, who once roamed continents with only a backpack and a grin. To be told to stay put? That doesn’t sit right. Freedom has always been my oxygen.
     
In the afternoon, Maryann and I crossed over to the park for club juggling practice. I’ll be honest—”dismal” fits. My hands remembered pieces, but not the whole dance like an old song half-forgotten. Still, each throw was a small rebellion: a reminder that the rhythm is still in there somewhere, waiting.
   
Then came the curveball—no PT this afternoon. No explanation, just poof. Perhaps someone canceled, or maybe the universe hit pause. Either way, I’m not here to coast. I came to grow sharper, stronger, freer.
   
Today is my sister Kath’s (aka, Willow) birthday, and so I gave her a call. She will be going on a trip to Mexico City; she is excited about this. She’s doing this through a travel bureau, her first of this sort. The plans sound fantastic.  Thank you again, Kath, for your past help.
   
Tomorrow? New day. I’ll show up again—maybe not remembering everything, but remembering why.
       
10/9—As you know, I’ve been teaming up with ChatGPT lately.
It smooths out my words before I send them flying into the world.
   
Last night, lightning struck—a spark, clean and mischievous:
“Write a three-line poem about juggling.”
The muse didn’t hesitate. She tossed back—
     
“Three balls in the air, and the world slows down,
Gravity grins, a sly co-conspirator,
I dance with chaos—and call it control.”
   
Not bad, huh?
A wink from the universe.
   
I was up by 4 a.m.—that hush-hour when the world exhales, when dreams dissolve and ideas come stretching, barefoot and curious. The halls are silent, reverent even. Everyone’s doors are shut tight. Mine? Wide open. Always. Just in case a bit of life—or you—comes wandering through.
   
Only two therapies today.
Makes me question, sometimes, why I’m still here.
   
9 to 10 with Lilly, Speech Therapy. She asked again what I’d done yesterday. And again, my mind reached and found only mist. Memory—my old juggling partner—dropping clubs I didn’t know I’d thrown.
   
But then, at 11, the garden called.
Hands deep in soil, sun spilling across my shoulders, worms doing their quiet work—ah, that’s the real therapy. The kind that roots you back into being alive.
   
Nothing planned after that.
So I didn’t plan.
And that’s the point. Some days, stillness is rebellion.
Some days, not doing is its own form of doing.
And on those days, even chaos needs to rest its hands.
       
10/10 — The world wakes before dawn for me.
At 3:33 a.m., I was already alive to the quiet—
that rare hour when even the air holds its breath,
waiting to see what you’ll do with it.
   
By 9:00, I was in the garden with Terrie, the sun stretching awake with us.
She clutched the plant directions like a sacred text: “Twelve inches apart.”
I grinned. I’ve grown hundreds of successful tomato plants—rebellious, radiant things—
And none of them ever asked a packet for permission.
I trust dirt more than directions. Eight inches, twelve—life will find its own math.
   
Later, I learned the day’s “lesson” was about following directions.
Therapy, they call it.
But if you already know how to do something.
Why obey a smaller version of wisdom?
Why kneel to a rule that never met your experience?
   
Too many here worship the manual.
Therapists—kind hearts, tight collars—cling to the safety of procedure.
But healing doesn’t bloom in compliance; it blooms in curiosity.
I’ve dropped hints, planted ideas, turned the soil for something wilder.
The ground is willing. The gardeners, not yet.
     
My therapy lineup today was simple:
Terrie at nine among roots and laughter,
then Lilly at 11:30 for speech.
By noon, I left her room wearing a scolding like a medal.
   
She wants me to write with sharper details, to name the moments.
I’d love to—but memory, that slippery friend,
just smiles and ducks out the back door.
Still, she means well.
And she’s right in her way.
I’ll bend toward her lesson—but never fold flat.
     
Lilly, you want more words.
Sometimes silence is the sentence.
And what haunts me most—
There’s so much potential here,
people who could change lives if they’d only
dare to color outside the lines.

 The Garden of Becoming
The new garden I’m building will take center stage soon—
Watch it unfurl as green shoots rise and blossoms announce themselves.
You plant.
You nurture.
You harvest.
You begin again.
Each sprout is a whispered promise.
Each bloom, a standing ovation.
Each fallen leaf is a graceful bow to the cycle of renewal.
   
Why We Garden
1–It lifts your spirit and strengthens your confidence.
2–Your heart beats healthier for it.
3–Stress dissolves like dew in morning sun.
4–Happiness takes root and spreads.
5–Your hands grow stronger, more capable.
6–Families bond over soil-stained fingers and shared meals.
7–Sunshine provides vitamin D and warmth to your bones.
8—Food you grow makes your body glow.
9–Neighbors meet, friendships sprout.
10–Families deepen together.
11–Communities connect, expand, and thrive.
12–Worries about hunger shrink as self-sufficiency grows.
     
Pulling a carrot from your own earth isn’t just food—it’s triumph wrapped in crunch. A declaration that patience, soil, and a little faith can produce flavors no store can sell. Sun-warmed tomatoes, basil perfuming your hands, strawberries gleaming like rubies beneath their crowns—miracles disguised as everyday bites.
   
And the enchantment doesn’t end outside. Indoors, life sneaks into any crack of light it can find. Herbs on the sill glow like emerald lanterns. Mason jars turn into miniature jungles. A stray pot of mint dares you to taste the freshness in your water glass seconds after plucking. Growth improvises, adapts, insists.
   
A salad bar sprouting within arm’s reach of your sink.
A curtain of green where once was bare glass.
And tiny jungles humming in corners of your home.
   
Growth never truly stops—it just shifts form. Begin with a pot, a box, a borrowed square of dirt. Watch what happens, not only to the soil, but to you as well. Because in caring for life, you’ll find your own edges softened, your clock slowed, your days reminded of this truth:
Life itself is one vast garden—unpredictable, abundant, forgiving.

My Next Chapters

I’m not winding down—I’m revving up.
I’ve got at least another hundred years of laughter, learning, and love in me.
The world is waiting for your story, too.
It’s time to write that book, launch that dream, or chase that adventure you’ve been postponing.
     
What’s your next spark?
What’s your bold adventure this week?
What’s one bold thing you’ll do this week that makes you feel alive?
“Breathe. You’re still here. That’s enough reason to dance.”

YOUR CHALLENGE THIS WEEK:
Select a book to read and immerse yourself in it.
Let the book take over your mind.
Remember — FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS
       
Next week >> BLOG 346–See all on the Beauty Around You!

Final Thoughts
Your present moment is not the finish line—it’s your starting block.
The horizon holds more than you can yet imagine.
Because the best is always still ahead.
So juggle joy like it’s the air you breathe.
Chase sunsets as if they’re secret treasures waiting just for you.
Laugh so loudly that tomorrow leans in to listen.
Live as though you’ve only just begun—
BECAUSE YOU TRULY HAVE!